Well, tomorrow is another protest. The one year anniversary of the big one; the Women's March.
I'm grateful that we have this opportunity, grateful for freedom of expression, the freedom to gather, the freedom to express rage and disbelief and heartbreak in words and action. But, I am also furious. Furious that the United States has gone and is going to shit in so many ways so quickly and so constantly since a:
big game hunting (vicariously)
a-hole won the Electoral College but not the popular vote in 2016.
As we should all now know, democracy is not something to take for granted. Ane yet I am peevish to the g-damn max about spending yet another day with yet another homemade sign and mesh pack full of trail mix, phone chargers, lip balm, and Metro card hoping against hope that Republicans will find their balls and spines and that RBG and Mueller don't die anytime soon.
I am angry and tired. And I am tired of being angry and tired. But then again, at least there is hope in this messed up idea that is America, for that is more than many countries have.
My sign and pack sit at the ready by the front door, and I'm off to bed now. I hope the turnout around the globe tomorrow (and Sunday) is huge, and I hope this November's elections are blue and female tsunamis. In the meantime, I continue to try to do my part. Try to show my sons how to be active participants in an imperfect system that is better than many alternatives. Try to imprint upon their dear souls that working for the good of many, especially the weakest, poorest, and most voiceless among us, is absolutely the way to go. Hoping against current evidence that maybe in the future, justice won't take quite so much rage and effort.